


Do You Remember Tijuana?

by Llexeh



Series: Steve Is Going to Lose His Damn Mind [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Edible jelly dicks are apparently a thing, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone else is, Everyone is at least a bit ooc, F/M, How Do I Tag, M/M, Pre-Slash, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve is uncertain if he can blush, Steve needs to get drunk, The Author Regrets Nothing, The author is asking for patience and support, The author is godless, Various mentions of background and / or budding relationships, Wild Dr Foster, deepthroating competition, getting there, the Author Needs a Hug, the explicit is for the themes tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8822221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llexeh/pseuds/Llexeh
Summary: He had a sudden urge to just go to bed. Maybe he was too old and his age was finally showing. He wasn’t certain he could still blush after the super serum, but it was a blushable situation. So, yeah, he had been in the army and they were all filthy and he wasn’t actually as much of a prude of people made him out to be. But it was still a blushable situation. He knew he should have just given Natasha her present and maybe a hug. But Steve was many things, and he thought supportive was one of them. He was right in that assumption, but at what cost?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joeybelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joeybelle/gifts).



> Hi, this is my first time posting here, be considerate if you can't do gentle. 
> 
> Okay, with that out of the way, here's the thing: this has been rotting on my computer since late summer. I was hoping I'd get all six parts written and then post them as a single fic. Alas, I suck, so this has shifted into a series of one-shots. At the moment, the second one (set around Christmas and Steve's exasperation) is nearly done.
> 
> Yes, I am aware the whole "five times, one time" is meant to be a series of cutesy ficlets, but y'all (all like - being hopeful - three of you counting Joey) need to just accept I have written however many thousands of words about the Avengers sucking jelly dicks. If while reading this you find that it is beginning to look a lot like crack, well, it's serious crack and that's the last I'm saying of it. 
> 
> This is being posted now because my fanfiction soulmate, Joey, has been kinda sad recently and I'm hoping this might lift her spirits. I also miss her like crazy and she's been trying to get me to finish this for so long and I feel this is a good step in that direction. 
> 
> Just to clarify, in case you got lost in the tags: this is pre-slash, there isn't any actual sex, there are sex acts mimicked though, so woo hoo! Slash is gonna come, but like change, it's gonna take a while. Damn, I'm full of musical references no one cares about. 
> 
> This is unbeta-ed. Unbetaed? Unbeta'ed? This word is awkward. 
> 
> Sorry for the long notes, I'm overly excited.

The first time he was left speechless by how attractive Tony was, it felt a lot like being hit by a train. Steve didn’t have the best track record with trains. (Ha! _Track_ record.) When he was young, he watched people get on them and never return. He dropped Bucky from one. He watched helplessly as the one he was on sped wildly through Seoul. So the first time he realised he was attracted to Tony Stark, it felt like he turned his head and all of a sudden he was standing on the railway and headlights were closing in on him, there was no time to move aside, and his breath was stolen from his lungs.

There had been hints, and even half formed thoughts when in between insults and petty arguments, Steve thought Tony was above average. Which, he thought, as he recovered from the train running him over, was complete bullshit. And not only was Tony above average, he was god damn beautiful. Steve just gave up: his mind was a mess, and he figured this was what happened when people survive train trampling. Which was no one. Except for Bucky, but that was falling off a train, and Steve just gave up _again._  It was pointless.

He needed a stiff drink. It was hardly the first time the need arose, and he was perfectly aware he couldn’t get drunk, but it was more the sharp pinch of the alcohol on his tongue, the soothing way it burned its way down his throat that he wanted. It was anchoring in a way few things were. Fighting was one of those things, but Natasha was terrifying, and this _was_ her birthday party. And on top of that, Steve genuinely cared for the redhead and wanted her to have a good time. And she was terrifying. So unless she instigated some group brawl, that was not an option.

There were plenty of bottles pretty much everywhere around the large common room in the tower, but Steve also needed a dark corner to brood for a little. There was a poignant desire to lament his inability to get drunk. Because maybe if he could, he’d pass out and it would finally get quiet in his head. Like many other things that night, that wasn’t an option. So he sat down and drank scotch straight from the bottle, trying to attract as little attention as possible.

Maybe if he thought of it tactically, as if it were a mission he needed to plan. He took a deep breath and another swig from the bottle. Situation: the reality he found Tony Stark attractive. Extra information: not only did he find his fellow Avenger attractive, he was rendered speechless, mid conversation with… someone because he found him _so_ attractive. Problem: he found Tony Stark attractive. Gosh, Steve was well happy no one could actually read his mind. They’d either pass out with the sheer stupidity that floated around, or pass out from laughing too much.

The problem wasn’t that Tony was a man, or even that he was a fellow Avenger, or that he was Howard’s son, or that he was a dick most of the time, or that even if he was remotely attracted to men, he wouldn’t go for Steve’s righteousness and stubbornness and whatever it was that annoyed him about Steve. Oh, wait. Those were the exact problems. Maybe not the Tony being a man part, because Steve always knew he was a bit not-straight. And coming back into the modern day and age, he quickly adjusted to the fact that he didn’t need to stick a label on himself. It was a stark contrast to going into a battle against the Nazis with the distinct thought that some men wear a uniform better than others.

So, tactically. Problem: Steve was currently speechless halfway through a bottle of scotch that did absolutely nothing to him (while everyone was having a blast) because he found his friend hot and there was no way anything would come of it for various reasons. There, that was the most compact way of putting it. Steve was thankful the babbling in his head didn’t translate into his reports. Solution: drink the entire bottle, put on a smile, and join the party before someone asks questions.

The train metaphor, Steve figured, came from the abruptness of the entire thing. It was all going fine. Natasha’s birthday was coming up and she made a point to not say anything about it. It was all a bit uncertain anyway – her age, her exact date of birth – all of it buried in triple classified files hidden in underground bunkers under a lake in Switzerland; or something. The intel was her birthday was on the 22nd of November, and they accepted it as such.

She didn’t plan anything, didn’t mention it at all, and Steve was fine. He’d bought her a hand carved wooden jewelry box from a thrift shop in Brooklyn months before. It reminded him of her with its intricate edges and vintage finish, and Steve was a sucker for gifting people things he thought they’d like. He was ready to wrap it up and present her with it at midnight if she was around, or for breakfast, and he was absolutely fine with it. In hindsight, he would have preferred it, if only to avoid a metaphorical train. Steve was less and less fond of trains with each passing minute.

Clint approached him at lunch a couple of days before with a smile (first sign of trouble), a notepad (signs two-to-five of trouble), a pen (!), and confetti on his shoulders. Steve nearly turned around and walked away. He might have looked young, but he was starting to think he was essentially an old man – what was that line in the film? Too old for this shit?

The short conversation went along the lines of:

“We’re throwing Tasha a party, tell your friends.”

“All of my friends live here, Clint.”

“You need to get out more, Cap.”

“Okay… Does she want a party?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“She’s gonna shoot all of us, Clint. And some of you are more prone to dying than others.”

“We’ll duck. She can’t shoot all of us at once.”

“She can if she gets a grenade launcher. The rest she’ll thigh-strangle to death.”

“It’ll be fine, Cap, you worry too much. Here, shopping list. Hide everything in your room, we can’t order online, she’ll know. Thanks!”

It turned out everyone was excited about it, so Steve went with it. He volunteered to be in her line of fire, shield up for when she reacted to the surprise. It went as well as expected: she walked into the dim room, shot at his shield, and pretended to be very surprised while wearing a cocktail dress and high heels. Her smile was bright however, and Steve found it endearing.

“Clint,” she started walking towards the marksman, “I know this is on you. Come, we’re doing tequila.”

Clint actually groaned. “Tasha, anything but that! Remember Tijuana?” He shuffled his feet towards the bar where Tony started pouring shots.

“Do _you_?” Natasha asked with a laugh. She turned to the people gathering at the bar. “Thank you so much for wanting to celebrate with me. Now drink!” She passed shot glasses to everyone and set the tone for her party.

Thor placed a crown on her head, naming her their queen for the night as soon as the bottle of tequila was finished. Someone put some lounge music on, and Steve was pleased to see his friends enjoying themselves as they mingled.

It was all very informal, with just the Avengers and their close friends. Vision trying to be inconspicuous in his white button down, drifting around Wanda as close as possible without clinging to her. Quicksilver speeding around the room smiling at Maria Hill in that downright shameless manner that made Fury cock his head ominously. Pepper and Maria converging to the side to complain about managing what were basically children. Bruce chatting to Jane and pretending not to be dumbstruck by Darcy’s pin-up dress and hair. Sam and Bucky to the side, chatting animatedly about sport, Steve guessed. It looked like a promising night. No trains in sight.  

About two hours in, Rhodey lost to Steve at arm-wrestling for the seventh time. He was about to ask for a rematch, when Natasha asked to replace him. She sat down on the bar stool opposite him, smiling widely. On top of what Steve assumed was an actual crown, she now sported a plastic tiara adorned with large silver stars that bobbed whenever Natasha moved. Her eyes were as focused as always, but there was a subtle flush to her cheeks.

“Think you can win, Tasha?”

“I don’t know, Cap. Will you let me?” She cocked her head to the side, flirty as always. The stars on her head dangled dangerously.

Tony materialised to their side with two more shot glasses. “He’s an honest guy, Natasha. Of course he won’t let you win.” He downed his and gave the other to her.

“Not even if I ask nicely?”

Steve laughed. “I value my life. Wouldn’t want to insult you.”

She nodded. “Let’s make it interesting. I’ll bet my tiara and you can bet…” She looked around trying to find something. Her smile broadened. “Ah! You lose and I get to set you up on a date!”

“Is that still happening? Okay then.” He placed his elbow on the bar and wiggled his fingers. Natasha grabbed it and signaled Tony to count. It was more difficult than with Rhodey, Steve will give her that, but in the end he was victorious.

She graciously admitted defeat. “Fair and square. Well, ignoring the super serum and the days you spend in the gym.” She disentangled the plastic tiara and placed it on Steve’s head. “I still get to set you up on a date cause it’s my birthday and you owe me for the thing in the place,” she told him.

He laughed and gave up trying to dissuade her. He’d just have to find a way out of this one as always. “You’d think there were no more people I can say no to,” he said jokingly.

“Oh, Steve. I’m only on J. We’ve got a long way to go,” she informed him.

Tony poured her another shot and drank his from the bottle. “I’ve got an updated list of Stark employees you can use. And Friday made a folder called Operation Date on the common server to simplify your mission,” he offered.

“Excellent,” Natasha said covering Steve’s groan.

The music changed to something more familiar to Steve; Bucky stopped by his side on his way to the dance floor. “Watch this,” he told them with a shit eating grin. He quickly grabbed Darcy and pulled her close. Steve groaned again.

“I swear to god, if we have a code green I’m getting the largest electromagnet in the tri-state area and I’m hanging him in Times Square,” Tony told them.

They kept an eye on Bruce as Darcy and Bucky eased into a swing dance. He had a small smile on, wiping at his glasses absentmindedly. Without the threat of a Hulk-out (and Steve was certain Bruce had more self-control than to lose his shit over this), it was actually amusing to watch. His eyes swept Darcy’s figure up and down as she moved, looking like he was trying to convince himself of something or the other. Steve grudgingly admired Bucky’s plan, but even if it worked out fine for everyone, he was still going to get punched in the non-metal shoulder for being a dick.

Once their dance was finished, Bucky put on a show of bending over Darcy’s hand and kissing it delicately. He offered his arm and led her to where their little group was gathered. Her fingers shot out towards Tony and she wiggled them in a silent plea for alcohol. Tony indulged her with a laugh.

“Well, that’s the most physical I’ve been in ages,” she told them after a quick succession of straight-from-the-bottle tequila shots.

“That’s because you keep skipping your damn training and I get bored of looking for you,” Natasha said casually. “I’m keeping track, by the way. You owe me twelve miles and four kickboxing sessions.” Darcy just grabbed the closest vodka bottle and started chugging. “And a hundred and fifty push-ups,” the redhead continued unfazed.

Bucky leaned into Darcy in a show of support. “Think how much ass you’ll kick,” he told her.

“Yeah, no, Lover Boy. There’s no motivating me, like, ever.”

“Lover –"

“It’s from a movie,” came the voice from behind them. Bruce was standing there casually, arms crossed over his chest, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Steve remembered watching it late one night when he couldn’t sleep. “Isn’t it with the ghost guy?”

Tony snorted and offered Bruce a glass of bourbon. “Yeah, no,” he said, repeating Darcy’s words. “On the right track though, so props.”

Bruce took the drink and sipped it slowly. Steve felt like he was caught in some odd power play between people who had more of a life than he did. He poured a shot of tequila and downed it just to adhere to their standards. Tony poured him another one.

“Imagine betting on Rogers in a drinking competition. You’d make millions!”

“You already have millions,” Darcy told him with a laugh. She pulled away from Bucky and pat his cheek. “Thanks for the dance, Footloose. I better go find Jane before she has too much to drink and decides to strip.”

Bruce choked on his drink. “Dr Foster wouldn’t…?”

“Dr Foster definitely would,” Darcy told him. “College was a weird time. Don’t ever look up her arrest record.”

When she left them Tony was already on his phone. Bruce made a vague noise, gesturing wildly with his half empty glass. After several failed attempts at words, he nodded and followed her general direction. Once he was far enough, Steve turned and punched Bucky as he promised himself he would.

“Ouch, Rogers! I’m wounded!”

“You will be if you keep this up,” Steve replied. “You have no business with these nice people, leave them alone.”

Bucky grinned. “But it’s so much fun, Stevie! Besides she looked great, and who was I going to dance with? You? You have eight left feet. You’re like a clumsy spider whenever you even think of a dance floor.” Steve punched him again in the same spot, really hoping it would bruise, at least for a couple of minutes. “You know, when you were just a scrawny kid in Brooklyn and I fought all your fights –"

“I thought you couldn’t get drunk, Buck. What is this, memory lane? You always did this and I had to listen to you for _hours._  Hours, Buck.”

The former assassin had the cheek to look offended. “Just because you’d have died if you drank too much…”

Tony choked on tequila and turned his back to Natasha for help. She hit between his shoulder blades a couple of times. “Thank you,” he told her. “I feel I’m watching Grumpy Old Men on cable during a storm when there’s nothing else on.”

Steve was confused and was about to ask what he was on about when drumrolls flooded the large common room. Clint’s voice could be heard over the noise, belting out Happy Birthday horribly off-key. It was Natasha’s turn to groan. Steve felt almost vindicated.

Clint was carrying a huge tray of what looked like reasonably sized jell-o dicks. Steve wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but he had a Bad Feeling about it. Not like when a villain would pop out of nowhere before breakfast and coffee, but close.

“Loaded with vodka, just like you like them” Clint told Natasha. He deposited the tray on the edge of the coffee table, turning to the people sitting on the sofas. “Hurry up, make some room.” Natasha groaned again, louder than before. Steve put on his best patronizing smile and pat her shoulder.

They walked to where Clint was standing proudly admiring his work. Steve counted fifteen identical phalluses in various colours wobbling on the tray. He had a sudden urge to just go to bed. Maybe he _was_ too old and his age was finally showing. He wasn’t certain he could still blush after the super serum, but it was a blushable situation. So, yeah, he had been in the army and they were all filthy and he wasn’t actually as much of a prude of people made him out to be. But it was still a blushable situation. There were things he couldn’t shake despite everything he’d seen. And jelly dicks on a tray was one of them, apparently.

“Clint, why?” Natasha’s voice gave away some annoyance, but mostly humour. So at least she liked it somewhat.

“Remember when I had that bartending thing in Vegas? Well, there were a shit-ton of bachelorette parties and this was popular with the ladies.” He shimmied a little and promptly burst into laughter.

“I’m assuming they weren’t chewing them in front of the strippers,” Sam said casually.

“Not until much later, no,” Clint replied. “Deepthroat competition!” he said and Steve wasn’t even sure who groaned the loudest.

Jane took a step forward, and Darcy’s hand shot out to catch her shoulder. She tried her best withering glance, but it seemed the good Dr. Foster had gone to the dark side. Steve was proud of his reference, even if he had yet to watch Star Wars. That was a new thing he’d started doing, where he privately googled popular references just so he wouldn’t be lost in conversation. He just hadn’t gotten around to watch everything he missed being frozen, and that made the cheating thought a bit less poignant. Jane nodded at Darcy, and Darcy shook her head, so Jane nodded _louder,_  and Darcy just sighed and took a step forward too. Steve recognized it for what it was: solidarity. He’d done enough stupid shit for Bucky to know it intimately.

“What is this deepthroating?” Thor’s voice managed to boom even when he didn’t mean it to.

In the slightly tense (and also curious) atmosphere in the room, his question seemed to make everyone burst into laughter. The god’s confused expression almost made Steve take pity on him, but Pepper was quicker.

“It’s when you suck on – ah, how to – ” Her inability to not be helpful left her stranded halfway through her sentence not really knowing how to go on. “Tony?”The scientist lifted his hands in a clear sign of not-touching-this-one-it’s-hilarious-to-watch-you-struggle. Pepper looked around some more, her cheeks starting to redden.

Maria Hill of all people chose to lean forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Dick sucking, Thor.” She prodded a jelly dick with her finger and then looked up at the god. “But _really_ deep.” The entire room burst into laughter again.

Thor’s face lit up and he brought his hands together as he did before a fist fight. “Ah! Of course, it makes sense now. So, a competition,” he said and Steve knew that look.

Jane giggled, Pepper touched her hand to Maria’s shoulder in a sign of gratitude, and Darcy released another long suffering sigh. Wanda stepped closer, looking like she wanted in. Pietro shuddered somewhere to his right, and said a quick “Wanda, no,” to his sister. She smiled viciously. Steve was certain he would never understand their dynamic, even though there was a part of him that envied the feeling of belonging in a symbiosis of that nature.

“Tony, remember when we –"

“Rhodey…”

“Tony…”

_“Rhodey!”_

_“Tony!”_

Natasha stepped forward and knelt by the end of the coffee table. She looked up at Tony with a smirk. “Well, it _is_ my birthday…”

“For the love of god, we don’t even know if you were born or if you hatched from a large egg!” Tony exclaimed.

“Come on, Stark. It’s gonna be like that time we were stranded in Atlantic City. I remember you taking off your shirt and well, are we still banned there?”

“Rhodes, I made that disappear from your record, I can bring it back.”

Clint interrupted their little spat. “Okay, okay, enough. Show of hands if you wanna suck fake dicks for Natasha’s birthday. She’s obviously gonna do it so we might as well show some solidarity…”

Jane put both her hands up, Maria joined her with one. Darcy’s finger lift up. Thor put one of his hands up and the other snaked around Jane’s shoulders. Steve couldn’t even begin to think about their sex life. Mostly because it was wrong to give it that much thought, but also because he wouldn’t even know where to start. To his surprise, Bucky put his hand up.

“What?” he asked. “Remember Jacques bet me I couldn’t stick a bottle of beer down my throat? I won that one.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He didn’t actually remember. His best guess is he was agonizing in a corner about making Peggy like him. He tried not to choke on air when Tony’s hand went up following Rhodes’s. “You are going down. Literally,” he heard the scientist say. Pepper joined them as well, downing her entire champagne flute. Bruce ran his hand down his face.

“Captain?” he heard Sam ask him with a smirk.

“Oh, I’ll pass,” Steve said with a small smile. “The serum removed my gag reflex, it wouldn’t be fair.” He was happy to make his friends laugh, but he was still not going to slobber over some vodka filled jelly dicks. Even though he could. And he would probably win. Still wasn’t doing it.

After a brief rearranging, the contestants sat or kneeled around the table. Everyone moved out of the way, and Clint made sure to put some raunchy music on before getting in position. He dished out the jelly dicks on cake plates and got Vision to count to three. As soon as the word was said, they all bent their heads and went for it.

Steve took a moment to observe without looking like a pervert. Pietro had given up on his disappointment and was cheering on Wanda in typical supporting-my-twin-forever way. Wanda, for her part, kept her eyes down and opened her mouth wide to slide down on the thing. Vision seemed mildly amused by it. Steve wondered briefly how lust worked in his case, but the snort coming from Rhodey’s general direction stopped his thought. The man was trying his best not to choke on both the jelly dick and his laughter, leaning heavily into his palms on the table. Pepper wasn’t faring much better, pulling back and clutching at her chest to try and stop laughing.

Sam sat opposite Bucky, both of them staring at each other. Steve was trying to decide if it was flirting or competing, but he came up short. Fury sat on the side of an armchair, drinking whiskey from the bottle, probably lamenting how much money went into the Avengers Initiative. Steve couldn’t blame the man. His good eye was starting to lose focus, and Steve felt a slight pang of jealousy at the ability.

Thor and Jane were holding hands on the table, both of them trying to accommodate as much as possible down their throats. Jane seemed to be doing better, but it could have been the fact that she wasn’t smiling like an idiot. Thor… not so much. Darcy kept her eyes trained on Bruce. The scientist still had his small smile on, Steve was glad to see. Even if it looked vaguely pained, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, or how to lean on the sofa better. Darcy pulled back, smirked at him, actually had the audacity to wink, and wiped at the corner of her mouth before taking most of the thing down her throat. For the first time since their competition started, Steve felt some inkling of arousal.

The whole thing was arousing in a way he supposed, but these were people he would be giving coffee to the following day when their hangovers wanted to kill them. They were the people he lived with, worked with, went to die for, trusted, and cherished. And for some reason, watching them try to deepthroat wasn’t exactly touching yourself material. Especially when half of them were at various degrees of hysterics, abandoning their task altogether in favour of laughter. Darcy was… different because Darcy was putting on a show. And Steve was many things, but not made of stone.

For some, it was a bonding experience – see Jane and Thor. For others, it was an excellent story – see Rhodey and Pepper. For others, it was blatant flirting – see Darcy and Bruce (who was cocking his head to the side; and Steve was absolutely certain that Dr. Banner was the only person in the world to watch their love interest perform a lascivious sex act and find it adorable.)

Clint pulled back to cheer on Natasha who was still going strong in the middle of them all, golden bejewelled crown crooked on her head. Steve felt proud of her determination, and also slightly turned on by the way her lips held on to the jelly.

Fury clicked his tongue from Steve’s side and it spoke volumes about how distracted Steve actually was. “Aren’t you glad you’re their leader?”

Steve nodded. “Hey, if all else fails, at least they can suck dick.”

Fury snorted in his glass. “I’m wondering who Clint used for the mould.”

“I don’t think I –”  

Freight train.

Tony leaned on his elbows, bending the jelly dick so he could suck on it and also look straight ahead. His eyes seemed glued to Steve’s thighs. He figured, as a last desperate thought, that the scientist was staring at whatever was in front of him, and at the highest point he could without rolling his eyes. Steve wanted to ignore the way the man’s throat bulged as he relaxed it to accommodate the phallus. He really, really did. But he’d seen the Godfather, and there was a bit there where Michael gets hit by lightning when he falls in love and Steve had no idea why that was where his mind took him, but it damned felt like Thor unleashed his thunder god power right through his spine. Tony swallowed around the thing, and Steve would swear until the end of time that the bottle of tequila he didn’t realise he was holding most definitely _didn’t_ shatter in his fist. He was utterly speechless. And would you look at that, he _could_ blush.

There was a vague sound of Rhodey whooping and Natasha clapping and Bucky cursing softly and Darcy laughing and Clint patting Tony’s shoulder. It all registered in the back of his head, including the proud look Tony threw him, and Maria inviting them all to eat a bunch of dicks. Steve turned away and walked to a bottle of scotch, conversation with Fury forgotten.

He welcomed the relative quiet and solitude while he tried to command his thoughts to re-enter some sort of order. He went to run his hands through his hair and of course he’d forgotten and watched the man he was suddenly aware he was attracted to deepthroating a jell-o dick while wearing a plastic tiara. Because being frozen for seventy years wasn’t ridiculous enough. He uselessly drank some more.

The music had changed by now, and everyone swapped impressions about their competition while swaying to it. Or at least he thought they were, he didn’t care all that much. Tony was showing Natasha his throat, explaining something about it and Steve’s mind brought back the image of the bulge, and what it treacherously decided to paint as heat in Tony’s eyes. Steve really wanted to get drunk. And yes, it wasn’t his party, but he could cry if he wanted to.

Bruce sat next to him, and if Steve were to chose, the man was probably his safest bet. With his kind eyes and gentle demeanour, at least he wouldn’t get chewed for being less than subtle. Steve handed him the bottle and they shared it between them in companionable silence. When Bruce pulled a second one from seemingly nowhere, Steve nodded his thanks.

“At least I can get drunk,” Bruce offered, and Steve found himself laughing. It was useless to think people hadn’t noticed his reaction, but this, this he could deal with.

“Well, I’m not a quitter. At least there’s less for all of you to drink, and that makes me happy.”

“Vicious,” Bruce said. “Not your normal mood, but I like it.”

“She’s really into you,” Steve said, not really caring at this point. “You should ask her out –”

“Yeah, no,” he repeated her earlier words, and Steve couldn’t help but find it endearing. “I tend to kind of break things when I get out.”

“Then ask her in. At least some of us would be home, if it makes you feel better.” Steve drank some more. “Besides, she’s not the type to anger people. Unless you can Hulk out from laughing too much.”

Bruce snorted. “Never happened before. I don’t laugh much.”

“From someone who has absolutely no idea what they’re doing to someone who’s conflicted as all hell: just spend some time with her. She’s probably the second kindest person I’ve ever met.” Bruce was too polite to push. “After you, I mean. Bruce, she’d be good for you.”

The scientist turned to face him. “Okay, are you sure you can’t get drunk? Cause you’re saying some liquor-wise things right now, some of which are complete bullshit,” he laughed.

Steve joined him. “Trust me, you’d know if I were drunk.”

“Well, I’ve got a nice buzz to get me to sleep, so I’m gonna cherish it and maybe improve it.”

“Bruce –"

“Steve, don’t. We can sit here all night with me getting drunker by the minute, and you staying as sober as always, and I could be listing a thousand and one reasons why it wouldn’t work. And honestly, I’d rather have a drink with a kindred spirit and then go to bed.”

Steve was many things, but not made of stone, and not a quitter. And focusing on someone else took his mind off his own shitty thoughts. Steve was many things, and even maybe a bit selfish. “So she’s younger than you.”

Bruce nodded vehemently. “Exactly! A whole life ahead of her!”

“So choosing for her is the way to go?”

There was a pause. “Well, no. But I’m making a conscious decision to not get her caught in this even if she thinks it’s what she wants.”

“So you’re choosing for her.”

“And she’s way out of my league!”

“Right.”

“And she’s funny and kind and perky and I’m not.”

“Okay…”

“And I can’t offer her stability or a family.” Bruce drank, passed the bottle to Steve, waited, took it back, and drank some more. “Or going out clubbing!”

“Of course.”

“Stop agreeing with everything I’m saying, Steve. It’s a low tactic.”

“Absolutely.”

“And she –"

“She’s beautiful,” Steve interrupted.

“So beautiful,” Bruce agreed with shining eyes. “She has this small smile on sometimes and a frown on her left side when something doesn’t make sense. And her face lights up when she talks about something she’s interested in.”

“Mhm.”

“And she knows I prefer almond milk and makes sure to add it to all the cups of coffee she brings me.” Bruce sighed. “And in the afternoon she makes my tea for me and brings me food sometimes when she knows I’ve been to busy and forgot to eat.”

“And of course, you do nothing similar for her,” Steve told him casually. He knew the only reason Bruce was so talkative was a lethal combination of misery and alcohol.

“Well, there was that exhibit I recommended. And I save her dinner every now and then.” Bruce sighed again. “I put away all the mugs in the labs so she doesn’t have to.” There was a long pause before the scientist spoke again. For a while, Steve thought he’d fallen asleep. “Oh, I also named a star after her. I mean she’s never going to know, but it’s just one of those things –"

There was some reward in staying sober when no one else did. Steve was certain to remember the moment Darcy Lewis stepped on the steel ledge at the bottom of the bar, leaned over the tall structure, gripped Bruce’s shirt, and pulled him for a kiss. And Steve was lonely and kind of miserable so he watched them because the warmth in his chest was beautiful, and it was so much better than the loudness in his head.

When she pulled back, Bruce was dazed and very confused. He managed a weak “What?”

“I stood and listened to you go on and on about this and that and maybe I’d have walked away and processed everything and then come up with a plan. But then you mentioned the fucking star, and I swear to god Banner, you’re the worst!” Darcy told him in one breath. She looked at Steve and grabbed the bottle out of his hands with a quiet “thanks,” then poured a glass and downed it.

“I… am?” Bruce asked uncertain.

“Yes! I spent the last six months of my life trying to find a way to be close to you, and you go and do some dumb shit that I can’t even begin to understand.” She turned to Steve. “Like, how do you even name a star after someone?” Steve shrugged helplessly.

“Darcy…”

“Don’t you Darcy me! With your stupid curly hair and your glasses,” she took a deep breath when Bruce unconsciously pushed them back up on his nose, “and your rolled up sleeves, and your kindness, and your smiles! Acting like you can decide what’s best for me.” Bruce had the decency to flinch at her accusation, his face flushed at her aggressive compliments.

“I just don’t think…” he started.

“That’s the thing. For someone so fucking smart, you’re being an idiot.” She turned to Steve. “Now, you. Both this dummy and myself and kinda drunk and I need you to bear witness to all this for when he’s trying to deny it all in typical fashion.” Steve nodded solemnly, trying to hold his laughter in. Everything was surreal. His entire life was a joke. “Now, you’re gonna get up,” she said, pulling at Bruce’s hand, “and walk with me over to that massive armchair. I’m gonna climb in your lap and you’re gonna tell me every reason you have for not wanting me –"

“But I do!”

Darcy was unfazed. “And I’m gonna counter-argue with my vast debate skills – what?”

Bruce sighed and walked around the bar. He rubbed his face with both his hands and pulled Darcy in a hug. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Steve _really_ wanted to get drunk before he punched someone for being stubborn and impossible. Bruce. Before he punched Bruce and got him to Hulk out and Steve was going to stop that train of thought right there. Trains. God damn it.

“So…?”

“So I think you can do better and I’d rather not waste your time,” he finally admitted defeatedly.

“I swear to god,” Darcy said and lifted her head to kiss Bruce again. The warmth in Steve’s chest was back, and maybe he wasn’t dead inside yet. She broke their kiss again, and stayed glued to Bruce’s side as she walked them away. “Thanks, Steve, you’re the best!” she said loudly, and Steve wanted to duck. Everyone who heard her turned to look at him.

Trying to at least look normal, Steve lifted his hand to salute them and touched plastic. He forgot about the tiara _again_. No, seriously. His life was a joke. He gave up completely and just let his head fall forward on his forearms. The metal on his back made it clear who it was that came to comfort or confront him – he had no idea.

“So, Stevie. Should I get Stark to dance with me as well? It seems to be working tonight,” he said and Steve could _hear_ the smugness in his voice.

He lifted his head to look his oldest, best friend in the eyes. “Fuck off, Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't be a dick in your comments, it doesn't help me and if that's what you find helpful to cheer you up, go see someone about that.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://llexeh.tumblr.com/).


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